


Leap day

by Florance_Tallis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-11-29 11:12:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11439666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florance_Tallis/pseuds/Florance_Tallis
Summary: Minerva McGonagall needs her one-time master more than ever. His advice, his company, and maybe a little more.Canon compliant, set in 1972, at the time of the first ascendancy of the Dark Lord.





	1. Linden blossom of a winter day

Elphinstone saw her stepping out of Crouch’s office in the morning. It lasted a brief moment. He could only catch a glimpse of her graceful posture, her neat ensemble and that signature _chignon_ from the corner of his eyes, just when he was turning back from the door to give some last minute instructions to the secretary. But the words stuck in his throat and the original intention disappeared altogether mid-sentence.  
Not that he visually recognized her from the back, it was rather a sensation, a quick, although sweeping sensation of _knowing_. _Feeling_ that it was her. And the next moment the corridor’s flowing crowd concealed the delicate silhouette.  
‘... meaning that it must be submitted no later than thirty minutes before the hearing? Mr. Urquart... _sir_?’ called the secretary cautiously. Elphinstone took a few slow steps away from the door contemplatively, his hand running through his beard.  
‘As I said, Mrs. Pearce... as I said.’  
‘But sir, you actually did not...’  
He silenced the older lady by raising his hand calmly, but firmly (his mind still carried away somewhere else, eyes screening through the morning crowd all the way up to the elevators). Elphinstone had never needed to display particularly assertive wording or actions in command, given that his sturdy and robust, yet sedate personality was oozing tranquil confidence and credible power.  
‘That is all’ the man said with a curt, dismissive gesture, already halfway toward the conference room, leaving Mrs. Pearce’s disapprobative eye rolls behind.

This time Elphinstone had no meritable comments or remarks on behalf of the Wizengamot Administration Offices at the usual weekly consultation of the heads of the divisions of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Although the rest of the participants had gotten used to – nevertheless, still irritated by – the ‘strategic abstention from expressing opinion’ often employed by the lawyers and legal experts heavily overrepresented in the ranks of the W.A.O. senior leaders. As the session carried on, a debate of personal nature started to unfold between the Head Auror and Crouch.  
Elphinstone did not even try to pay attention anymore, letting his private thoughts wander away – something he otherwise deeply despised in men of weak character and infirm self control. It would never happen to him normally. This time was... just a due exception. Ministry business. D.M.L.E. business in a figurative sense. After all, she appeared from the office of the Head of D.M.L.E.  
He had not seen her for almost two months, which honestly felt like a year without rain. But again, concluding, based on two seconds that the distant figure was actually her, would be more than foolish.  
In the Ministry... Improbable.  
What kind of activity would have she had here, having left it a long time ago with absolutely no desire to return in any form, as she often reminded Elphinstone bitterly.  
It must have been somebody _alike_. Who happened to provoke the same distinct, cell-deep reaction in him. Obviously; such a thing occurs on a daily basis without any doubt, Elphinstone snorted. Enough, he got annoyed himself. _Perceptions_ often create the illusion of reality, hence triggering...

  
‘Objection!’ Elphinstone dragged himself back to the present moment, catching the last lines of the Head Auror’s erroneous argumentation. ‘Nonsense, Alastor; re-introducing the use of the Unforgivable Curses under current conditions would be severe breach of numerous international magical conventions to which Great Britain and Northern Ireland are parties, as I have pointed it out numerous times.’  
‘Would it be?’ Moody growled across the heavy wooden table. ’The Auror Division is currently not only underequipped, _Your_   _Honor_ , but also lacking proper scope of authority, and is stripped of competence under the pretext of „defending the human rights” of those wizards and witches, who are ruthlessly slaughtering innocents out there.’  
‘Give me just one powerful and sensible reason which would account for the use of – let's say – Cruciatus’ Elphinstone’s voice went cold.  
‘Interrogation’ Moody snapped without hesitation.  
‘Nothing a drop of Veritaserum could not tackle.’ _Touché_. It was just overly easy. Moody pulled a face as if he wanted to make a comeback, but then rather retired, his eyes narrowed.  
Too bad Veritaserum needed consent as well, therefore could almost never be put to use, but if some relaxation of the rules were inevitable, he would always opted for the more humane solutions. Elphinstone now turned to Crouch.  
‘While the Killing Curse and Imperius might be, – I emphasize – might be warranted in exceptional cases under state of emergency, I strongly advise to drop the issue until…  
‘Until those bloody bastards take over the Ministry and introduce these beauties for everyday practice in institutionalized form.’ Moody was just not willing to contain himself. ‘The ones who are supposed to eliminate dark wizards are debilitated and tied down, while people are paying the price for it. Every. Single. Day. This madness has been on for almost two years! We must deliver!’  
This obviously struck a chord with Crouch. It was no secret that from the outset he was the one who had been eager to give the permission to the Auror Division, Moody’s concerns only reinforced his line of thinking. Elphinstone knew that it was not a matter of _if_ , but rather _when_.  
‘Bartemius’ Elphinstone paused before he went on, trying to choose a tone which made his words carry even more weight. ‘There is just no legal basis for that.’  
Crouch lifted an eyebrow as he shot a side look towards Elphinstone. ‘File a request for advisory opinion at the Wizengamot. As soon as possible. I want to see clear.’

Twenty minutes and a dozen of rewritten, needlessly exuberant drafts later an owl left through the window of the W.A.O. Secretariat into the snowfall, carrying a letter of four subtly powerful words.  
‘I thought of you.’

 

The owl left days ago, and no answer had come with it. It was already the 29th of February. Leap days are always particularly thrilling with a lingering secrecy around them. Word has it that actions on these days can be pardoned and concealed, leap days are like being carved out of time for little sins. Others say every deeds’ effect multiples on the 29th day of he last winter month, therefore it should be cherished and sized.  
Elphinstone was not superstitious about it. He was born on the 29th of February.  
‘I thought of you too.’ And there she was, standing on the doorstep of his London apartment with a bottle of wine in her hand, hood of her snow-covered cloak tossed back from her face, hair loosened, cheeks rosy from the wind. ‘Happy birthday, _Mr_. _Urquart_!’  
Elphinstone was genuinely taken by surprise; he did not expect visitors, and hearing his surname again from her lips was odd, something that had not occurred in years. Seeing his apparent astonishment, her enthusiasm suddenly turned into puzzlement.  
‘Gosh, it is not timely, is it?’  
‘It cannot be more timely, my darling!’ Elphinstone’s features softened as he stepped aside to let her in. It felt awkward. He was not in the mood for celebration, although he craved her presence like nothing else. He could smell linden blossom as he pulled her closer to kiss her cheek.  
‘In Arithmancy _56_ is a great number’ she remarked guardedly with a delicate smile when he helped her cloak down. The game started all over again once they had not been in touch for months. It was as if they were cautiously circling around each other on a floor scattered with shards of glasses.  
Minerva did not believe in such simplistic interpretation of numerology, and both of them knew it, but Elphinstone found it kind anyway. It meant she cared enough for him to go after it. She went on explaining that if they take it at face value – which they should not, but still – 56 is symbolizing excellent cooperation skills, and it's primary focus is represented in relationships. Interaction with others lets 56 resonate with its fullness.  
‘You are gonna get a splendid year with your colleagues’ she added in the end.  
‘Sincerely, I am not sure about that. It rather feels like crossing a line halfway between 50 and 60. However’ he winked ‘a good _Scotch_ matures with age.’  
‘And this’ she held up the bottle ‘is the best _pinot_ _noir_ you will ever have the pleasure to taste. I did some serious research on the subject matter. You will love it.’

  
He did. The bar was high though, since he had always enjoyed and understood fine drinks and having been able to afford the finest of them, pleasing him with a right selection was not easy. But it transcended his expectations. She put quite a lot of effort in finding the one.  
‘Minerva’ Elphinstone lowered his glass. They were sitting on the toufted brown leather sofa in the middle of the palour, fire crackling and burring behind them in the fireplace. The light of the flames was dancing across the room, across her face, in her eyes. Linden blossom was lingering around her with its slightly out-of-space character, promising summer in the dead of winter. He reached out and tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear. Would it be selfish to kiss her? It probably would.  
‘Yes?’ Minerva endured the touch, something to which she had grown accustomed in his company; the casual, hardly-there strokes, although Elphinstone could feel her entire body tighten with tension immediately. He pulled back his hand.  
With her, he had to be cautious. It was never entirely clear how far or deep she would let him, and although such a volatility in the majority of the cases excited him, other times it just drove him desperately clueless. True, he always liked the challenging, difficult cases. Elphinstone Urquart had gained his reputation by undertaking the grand but risky ones, bringing them to success. Every new legal case and every performance in the ruthless world of courtrooms was invited as a test of his abilities. He was a man who had known, gone for, and eventually always got what he wanted, willing to wait and bide his time, and constantly rearrange the chessboard if necessary. As long as he could feel that he was in control - at least to a certain extent. But Minerva kept him in the dark.  
’What? Am I burning?’ her eyes got mischievously kitten-like as she smiled. Elphinstone could painfully see now the 20 years of age difference between them. (Or rather, the 19 years and less than 5 months, as he often reminded himself.) She was still youthful, Merlin how youthful!  
’You have no idea.’

 _You_ _have_ _no idea_. Minerva liked his husky baritone; deep and rough. Endlessly comforting or at times sinisterly; he had mastered both. It sounded majestic in the Wizengamot chambers.  
_You_ _have_ _no_ _idea_. Oh, she knew very well how much she was burning him, how much pain she was causing with what might seem to be a ruthless game on the surface. Being hot and cold, giving in to desire, then retiring behind massive walls built around her by sarcasm, dangerous wit and suspicion. But he could not see the constant fight beneath. Feeling torn between an intense intellectual-physical attraction which felt more natural than anything else, and the guilt, arising from being unfaithful to what she had been holding onto and cherishing dearly; to what used to seem true love to her 18-year old self (although platonic in many ways). The sensation Elphinstone called out from her made the ploughed fields and high spirits of Caithness fade away more and more, and it frightened her. The possibility of leaving that all behind for good.  
Although the deep-rooted confidential relationship Minerva shared with her former boss could never compare to that degree of soulmate-like connection and freedom she experienced during the last summer before taking all the responsibility of adulthood. It would never compare. It can just never compare, because… she _decided_ _so_. Since it is not love.  
It is not. It cannot be.  
So yes, she liked to use this safe label – _intimate_ , _confidential_ _relationship_ – and not wander further with a well-rounded definition. Elphinstone did not have friends, she should have felt special.  
But that night Minerva McGonagall needed him as her one-time master more than ever. It was about Ministry business.

‘And what did you say to him?’ Elphinstone asked. He had a hard time keeping his tranquil demeanor after what he just heard.  
‘That I don't think it is currently necessary’ Minerva replied plainly.  
‘Of course it is not!’ Elphinstone stared at her pondering. A mixture of rage and disquietude was creeping along his spine. He was worried about her. Crouch just cannot drag her into it, for God’s sake!  
‘I hope I don't have to remind you that this is highly confidential information’ she asked sharply. ‘I would not even be supposed to mention it, Elphinstone. If it gets out…’  
‘Sure’ he paused. ‘And I sincerely thank you for trusting me with this.’  
Elphinstone got up and started walking up and down the room. The heavy wooden parquet creaked under his steps. What he unwrapped from her words was that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was practically planning to summon every available person to assist in the pursuit after Death Eaters. Minerva as a registered, accomplished animagus would be invaluable as spy in this respect.  
He was obviously not blind, had seen and experienced indirectly the reverberations of the actions and crimes that awful man and his henchmen had been committing. Still, in his judgement the situation was far from that grave. Re-instituting the Unforgivables... pressuring civilians to espionage… What kind of future is envisioned by the Ministry’s leadership against which it is embracing itself?  
‘Bartemius Crouch said it is optional, they are merely offering cooperation _opportunity_.’ Minerva placed her empty glass on the smoking table and continued with a hint of irony in her voice. ‘Well, we both know that it is at best a desperate move for recruitment, sugarcoated as a great privilege for the selected... and at worst, a tacit implication of... I mean, _now_ I have a choice.’  
‘And you will say no.’ He wanted to phrase it as a question. ‘That is…’ He grumbled. The thought of Minerva putting her life in peril regularly and – what not – voluntarily was more than worrisome.  
‘Yes I will. I still have my sound judgement capacity, thank you very much! I am way underqualified for something the best Aurors are being trained for years. All I intended to say is that...’ She hesitated, trying to find the right words. ‘My impression was that it… rather sounded like a _pending_ _order_. As if it had been decided, and I was only informed in a transferred sense about… a highly probable future scenario. You know what I mean? A done deal.'

  
The biggest lesson Elphinstone had to learn back in the day was how much she despised being presented with _fait_ _accompli_. She neither could be manipulated, nor commanded. Minerva McGonagall could not be tricked or forced into actions or situations; persuading her, making her genuinely wanting something was the way to go. She was the one in control, and questioning it drove out stings. Crouch could not have known it; he did not need to, to be fair. Many of these features became evident even to Elphinstone only after she left the Ministry behind. As a junior assistant she had to be submissive professionally to the superiors. There was no space for opposition or individuality in the hierarchy.  
Although he had to admit he enjoyed the fiercer, independent Minerva more. And he felt for the now somewhat uneasy Minerva under the shadow of turning her blessing and special ability into source of her instrumentalization. It was not about bravery. It was about choice.  
‘They certainly cannot have legal ground for forcing you into such an involvement.’ What she needed is reassurance, Elphinstone concluded quickly. ‘I promise I will go after the details, but in the meantime, please do me a favour and keep shaking of such offers. Don't even give them the slightest hint of being potentially interested – even if you are. Let's avoid all sorts of indicative behavior.  
‘Very well.’  
‘But even in the worst case scenario… I have never had the chance anyway to lead a case against a senior ministry official in power. What fun would that be!’ Elphinstone glanced down at her; seeing her apprehension, his mouth twitched under his well groomed mustache. ‘McGonagall v. Ministry of Magic, the trial of the decade!’  
‘McGonagall v. the Whole Wide World’ she sniffed.  
‘And I would win that, have no doubt about it’ he went on teasing, deliberately disregarding her remark.  
It just would not be worth speculating and arriving at premature, wrong and gloomy, if not frightening conclusions at this point. He did not want to scare her. But the diversion tactic did not work, Minerva turned her head away wearily. The increasing realization of heading toward even darker and more uncertain times strangely numbed her. Although, Elphinstone did not plan to give up just yet.  
‘All right, darling, what is this sudden blues? It is supposed to be a jolly day… or night or whatever has been left of it. Do you think I will let you walk in, take the scene, and not only get me into trouble by spilling some classified information, but spoiling my very own, very special very… fiftysix-ish birthday.’  
A sad smile ran through her face. ‘ _Pinot_ _Noir_ made me do it.’ She lifted her empty glass from the table.  
‘Come here’ Elphinstone gently pulled her up from the leather sofa. How could one be so ethereal? The whiff of linden blossom hit his senses again unexpectedly.  
Minerva leaned against him, resting her head and hand on his vest. His embrace was comforting and protective; she had never experienced anything similar with anybody else, she concluded yet again. It was almost like an invitation to let down all her guards. She felt her body loosening up instantly. The warmth of his broad, masculin chest on her palm felt good. Very good.  
‘Don't tell me that you are wearing a three piece suit even at home.’  
‘It’s Tuesday evening, I am from work’ he murmured into her neck.

Minerva could not help but go weak from that low, rough baritone vibrating through her veins.

Silence fell, time stood still. Life seemed easy.


	2. Unsaid

’I wish we could just stay like this forever.’ It was coming from a deep, tender, sincere place. She sighed. As her own words however reached her consciousness, a wave of panic hit her hard. ’Don't... I beg you, don't misunderstand it!’ She gasped pushing Elphinstone away rather harshly, scared from what she just uttered, looking at him frightened and bewildered.  
’Of course’ he frowned slightly, a smile playing around his mouth. ’I am not going to drag you to the altar having found satisfactory consent in an expression like this.’  
Minerva flopped back down to the bed burying her face in her shaking hands.  
’Are you all right, my dear?’ he asked. There was a great deal of seriousness now in his tone. 'It is not about the overwhelming concern for the ministerial reporting request, is it?’ Where had that sizzling life force of hers gone, he pondered. Something was unusually off.  
‘I am genuinely sorry, I should not have bothered you with this.’ Minterval glanced up.  
Elphinstone was lowering down onto the other side of the bed. His eyebrows were folded in concern. She could not bare his look, diverted her eyes from him, unable to look at the man as she suddenly realized what she let herself do. She flushed all at once, feeling his examining gaze on her now, dreading that he was thinking of the same.

She had never made love to the farmer’s son. Elphinstone took her gently, but firmly after long years of gradually and almost unperceivably dismantling her walls and her embarrassment-inducing preconceptions about him as her former boss and superior at his father’s age. But even if it happened ever so often, and she found this sort of connection with him truly desirable, her heart belonged somewhere else.  
That is what he could not now. It seemed impossible for her to give herself fully to Elphinstone. She loved that man more than deceiving him – with false promises at least. Although her acts continuously refuted it, rather deepening their bond, and thus feeding his hopes silently. Tenderly. Cruelly.  
And gosh, less than ten minutes ago when their eyes met just at the climax, and as she was gasping in rapture, she kind of said the most foolish thing ever. In that regrettable, soft moment it slipped out just as the wish did moments ago.  _I love you._

  
It was not vocal. No words left her lips. Her eyes however gave her away. She had never felt more exposed, more undisguised, and possibly more vulnerable than in that moment. And what felt worse actually? Laying bare in front of him, feeling, knowing that he sensed it and _read_ _her_ ; or laying bare in front of herself? She did not mean to say that - neither with her eyes, nor with anything really. It was a particularly long moment, as if she would have opened up and let him deep into the most hidden depths of her. Hidden maybe from Minerva herself too.  
Recalling it made her so gosh darn embarrassed.  
‘I should not have bothered you at all. I’d better be leaving.’ She moved abruptly to stand up, but froze in mid-motion as he called her name calmly.  
‘Minerva’ Elphinstone took his time before he reached out and stroked her face.  
The back of his hands felt pleasantly warm on her skin. This time she did not twitch, but still refused to look at him.  
’I am here for you. Anytime.’ He went on with his throaty whisper. ’Anything you need. Anything you want to talk about or take off of your shoulders. I have always been, and will always be. This, you know.’  
Minerva closed her eyes. Inhaled.  
’I am fine.’ She whispered back, a teardrop slowly running down her cheeks, onto his hand, through his fingers. ’I really am.’

In the hallway she thanked him under her breath for helping the cloak back on her. The air felt a bit denser and colder. Elphinstone returned to his somewhat lofty, yet businesslike ministry style. It just felt safer not to provoke any more emotional reaction out of her. As a matter of fact, he blamed himself for it instinctly.  
’...and I will owl as soon as I have a thorough and precise understanding of your and their options permitted by the law. Don't make any move without consulting me.’  
She nodded adjusting the cloak, carefully avoiding his eyes.  
’Have a safe journey and please’ Elphinstone took her arm and leisurely turned her so that Minerva faced him finally. ’Take care. Of yourself in the first place.’  
’I promise, _Mr_. _Urquart_.’ There was a strangely heartwarming harshness in her sarcasm.  
Their eyes met at last. He did not drop his hand and neither of them felt the need to move. There she stood in his hallway, staring at him, their hearts beating somewhat faster.  
And then the clock loudly struck midnight without any prior warning. Minerva winced as the sound dragged her back harshly to reality. Elphinstone let her go at once, let her slip through his fingers – again. The magic broke, the silence got filled displeasingly with noises which had not been before: the clock ticking, the wine glasses clinching while washing themselves in the kitchen, their own thoughts...  
’Am I hurting you?’  
’You are doing what?’ He was genuinely surprised by her question. 'Is it... is it what troubles you?'  
’I am not playing with you.’ She sounded as if she was rather trying to convince herself. ’I feel like I am wrongfully making you believe that we are becoming... more than friends.’  
'Minerva’ Elphinstone smirked. ’We _are_ more than friends’  
That smirk caught her off-guard. The way it made his features crinkle and brought about that confidently impudent charm. The way it flashed traces of his younger self beneath the slightly graying hair and beard.  
’We are allies. Remember, my darling, you are my consort battleship.’ He wreathed his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. ’And yes, I will keep asking you to make it official, but at the same time I am perfectly happy about the fact you are alive and a part of my life. In one way or another.’  
He pulled her even closer sensing not even a trace of resistance, and kissed her. It was soft and slow, not what would have been expected from such a sturdy man being used to carrying that much authority. Minerva always noted this; and that how differently Elphinstone acted towards her. She just could not oppose, silently cursing herself.  
’No pressure; it is unnecessary to beat yourself up about it. No stings attached’ he added when their lips parted.  
’I am sorry to say this.’ She stepped back, trying to regain balance, to clear her head. ’You are wrong, Elphinstone. But Merlin, so am I! In fact, there are just too many strings attached already.’ _And_ _this_ _situation_ _is_ _hurting_ _us_ _both_ , _it_ _would_ _be_ _senseless_ _to_ _deny_ , she finished the sentence in her mind.

He was wrong indeed, Elphinstone thought lighting a cigar and watching from the window as her figure was being blurred away in the heavy snowfall. He sighed heavily. She was not the young assistant he once secretly had fallen for; present day Minerva would never wish to be stuck in a role – a residue of the good ol’ ministry days – of being anybody’s consort battleship when _she_ _already_ _had_ _her_ _own_ _armada_.  
She was wrong indeed, Minerva thought as she got ready to disapparate in a sheltered corner of the street. Her ideal about love did not protect her from falling for somebody else. And it was something over which she had neither choice nor control.

Despite March the 1st, it still felt depressive and cold. As if spring would have been a decade away.  
Uncertain times were ahead.

**Author's Note:**

> I incorporated the linden blossom scent instinctively into the first sketches, and I looked up later its symbolism; surprisingly I found it very accurate:  
> Originally, in Gervmanic people’s native pre-Christian mythology, local communities assembled to hold their judicial meetings under the linden trees in order to restore justice and peace. Additionally, the Linden is the ’tree of lovers’, concealed love.


End file.
